


A Whiter Shade of Ice

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Ice Skating, M/M, Winter, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's attempt to take Mycroft ice skating isn't as successful as he would have hoped, but Mycroft isn't one to let unsuccessful situations stand for very long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whiter Shade of Ice

**Author's Note:**

> A little piece for [sirro134](http://sirro134.tumblr.com/) who had the brilliant idea of a skating date for Mycroft and Greg, and the tribulations that activity was bound to cause...

     “Now, that’s a brilliant thing to see.”

Mycroft hmmm’ed curiously and looked across the street towards the scene that had his lover grinning like a child seeing Father Christmas with a sack of toys in his hand.

     “Pardon?”

     “That.”

Mycroft took in the small, makeshift skating area in their local park that was currently teeming with people and groaned inwardly at the sight.

     “I reassert my ‘pardon?’ and raise the stakes with a ‘kindly explain.’ “

     “The skating!  That’s a wonderful thing to do on a nippy winter’s evening, isn’t it?”

If one enjoyed jostling, anarchy, the hurling of contagions by plague-infected children…

     “As you say.”

     “I do say, thank you very much.  When I was a lad, there was a pond not far from my house that would freeze enough in the dead of very cold winters to support a brace of bundled children with their skates on, along with their mums and dads.  Those were great times… really great times, indeed.”

Mycroft’s imagined boy-Lestrade, with his hat, scarf and mittens, along with cold-reddened cheeks and a brilliant smile, warmed his heart more cozily than the very decadent coffee beverage they had lingered over after tonight’s evening at the cinema.

     “What a delightful winter scene you paint.”

     “It was, too.  One of those things you don’t do often, so it stays special in your memory.  In fact, I haven’t strapped on skates in years…”

The rather drawn out ‘years’ and specific turn of tone put Mycroft on high alert so he was able to brace himself on the sidewalk as Lestrade tried to turn their walk towards the frozen pit of pestilence on the other side of the road.

     “Hey!”

     “Gregory Lestrade… you, as a man of the law, are well aware of traffic ordinances and the prohibition of crossing a road in what one might call a willy-nilly fashion.”

     “There’s not a car in sight!  Or a traffic officer, for that matter.  Come on, then… let’s go and see if they have skates for let and take a turn around the ice.”

     “It is growing late, my dear, and you were visited by a difficult day of work, if you remember correctly.  Such vigorous activity is certainly not something I would advocate for a man requiring rest and relaxation.”

     “Bollocks.”

     “I shall rescind my admonition to the degree that vigorous activity involving your testicles _will_ be permitted.  Never let it be said that I am an enemy of the mutually-advantageous compromise.”

Lestrade wagged his finger precisely one inch from his partner’s kissable nose, which was slightly tilted upward in a truly smug manner and debated whether to implement the power pout or let out the giggle that he was struggling to keep in his throat.  It was no surprise, none at all, that the giggle won out.

     “You’re a randy man, Mycroft Holmes.”

     “Something I prize most highly.  Now, might I suggest that we make for home with some haste so we may explore my affliction in greater depth?”

     “Oh, I have full intentions of doing just that.  After we have a bit of a skate.”

     “I counter with the argument that energies expended in such a manner will not be available for more pleasurable pursuits later in our evening and that can be considered nothing less than a travesty.”

     “I double-counter with the argument that a good few turns on the ice will get our blood running and you know what happens when we’re already feeling… physical.”

Glorious things.  Damn Gregory and his dastardly ability for debate!

     “I triple-counter with an alternative suggestion of traversing the remaining distance to our home at a brisk pace and accomplishing the same goal.”

     “You can’t skate, can you?”

Mycroft’s ‘why-I-never-how-dare-you’ affronted expression started Lestrade giggling again and he kissed his indignant partner lightly on the cheek to seek forgiveness.

     “It’s alright, you know.  Not everyone has a chance to learn and I don’t expect you to know how to do everything in this world, though I do admit it’s a near thing.”

     “I most certainly _do_ know how to ice skate, you horrid man.  I did so with some frequency in my youth, actually, when we holidayed in Switzerland, Austria or one of the Scandinavian countries.”

When Mycroft turned as boastful as a bratty seven year-old, his partner knew he’d hit fairly close to the intended mark.

     “Then you should welcome the chance to show me just how talented you are and put me firmly in my place for doubting you.  Let’s go…”

This time, Mycroft wasn’t braced well enough to stop being dragged across the street and Lestrade only had to suffer being petulantly smacked on the arm as he stopped them near the small area where tickets were being sold and YES! skates were available for those who didn’t have their own.

     “Perfect!  And it looks like they have our sizes, too.  Here, I’ll even pay the admission and rental fee so you can’t complain about your money being wasted on frivolity.”

Which was going be Mycroft’s next complaint, so it was positively beastly of his partner to beat him to the proverbial punch.

     “Gregory, the crowd is quite large.  And exuberant.  I suspect you will not have the placid, memory-evoking experience for which you are hoping.”

     “Placid?  A scrum of boys and girls wearing lots of layers of padding and finding that friction isn’t working very well at the moment?  It was a massacre!  A fantastic, full-on war.  Even the dogs got involved.  Being dragged across the ice by a dog who has the seat of your trousers in his mouth is something you don’t really label placid, unless you’ve led a very frightening life.”

If there existed even a scrap of film footage or photographic documentation of those occasions, Mycroft would see it found and preserved in the most secure of his private vaults, available for his private viewing whenever the mood struck.  Which would likely be often.

     “Regardless…”

     “Come on, love.  You say you can skate and look… plenty of sedate, mature adults milling around the fallen bodies and squabbling kids to have a pleasant time on this beautiful night.  That’ll be me and you in a moment.  My lovely Mycroft, on a lovely night, having a lovely time… how can you say no to all that loveliness?”

The actual loveliness Mycroft was finding it hard to say no to was looking at him with gleeful expectancy and making him feel an utter villain for protesting their impromptu activity.  Why did Gregory have to be so inexpressibly breathtaking?  Especially when his eyes were gleaming with happiness and his smile was brighter than tonight’s clear and vibrant moon?

     “Very well.  Perhaps for a few moments.”

     “Yes!  Oh, this is going to be grand.  You have a seat on that bench and I’ll bring your skates.”

Which would have been worn by countless unwashed feet and host an established microcosm of fungal spores and soil-inhabiting bacteria eager to pillage the pristine skin of the next foot to invade their kingdom.  Perhaps it would be prudent to contract the nation’s best biochemists to prepare a vaccine for the Detective Inspector’s manly wiles.  They did manifest their potency in the most troublesome of ways…

__________

     “There.  Laced up nice and tight so your ankles won’t wobble so much.”

     “My ankles are not prone to wobbling.”

     “Says the man who had to be rescued from having a face-to-floor collision when a shadow he thought was a mouse seemed to skitter across his path.”

     “We were never again to speak of that.”

     “Evidence isn’t always pleasant, Mr. Holmes, but we present it in court, nonetheless.  So, up you go and… yes, that’s not a bit of wobbling.  A _lot_ of wobbling, perhaps, but certainly not a bit.”

Mycroft glared at Lestrade who pressed his lips together tightly to control his grin and offered his arm for his not-wobbly partner to take to be escorted onto the ice.

     “I simply needed a moment to find my balance.”

     “I know, love.  Just a little harmless teasing.  Step carefully, though.  Those long legs of yours are fantastic when they’re naked and wrapped around me, but they can make a body a little teetery, especially when perched on two thin blades of steel.”

Tempering your impertinence with sexually-arousing imagery will not spare you my teetery wrath, Gregory.  Though your firm, yet gentle, steadying might buy you some small degree of reprieve.

     “Nice and slow… take care now, and… there.  On the ice and ready to skate.  Let’s go to it, then.”

Lestrade grinned widely and started forward, feeling the muscle memory kick in quickly as he moved nimbly across the ice, laughing at the feeling of being a kid again and the sheer joy of doing something spontaneous and fun with… with the man who was, apparently, about four inches from their original starting point.

Speeding up and implementing tactical avoidance maneuvers, Lestrade made it around the small ice rink quickly and came to a stop next to Mycroft who seemed to be thinking deeply, which was not exactly one of the critical criteria for a casual spin on skates.

     “How are you doing, love?”

     “Fine.”

     “Good.  Very good.  Would you care to join me in the moving forward portion of the evening?”

With all the people?  Who, obviously, had no idea how to organize their spacing so that orderly lanes were formed?  And engaged in tomfoolery?  How was a person to successfully navigate the chaos and not find themselves colliding with the frigid and unforgiving ice?  The pain, the… humiliation…

     “Mycroft?”

Gregory would think him an ungainly, incompetent buffoon as he tried and failed to keep poise… and balance… in the simmering stochasticism that was playing out everywhere but this one tranquil spot… 

     “Oh… yes.  Yes, of course, I was simply distracted a moment by a small piece of remembered business.  Nothing of consequence.  Shall we?”

The plainly-visible nervousness on Mycroft’s face, augmented by his weak and hesitant smile went straight to Lestrade’s heart and he declared this part of their night officially at an end, kicking himself squarely in the head for being such a dolt.  This was not the sort of situation that Mycroft would find comfortable and it was a poor showing as a partner to push him into it.  Well, lesson learned and this mistake would _not_ be made again…

     “I have an idea.  How about we get out of these skates and enjoy a spot of hot chocolate while we watch the goings on instead?”

     “What?  I… Gregory, I know you are most eager to…”

     “Nah, I’ve done a lap and that’s enough for me.  Just needed to get a feel of the ice under my feet again and there’s that urge satisfied.  I’m very happy to enjoy the night air and the atmosphere with a gorgeous man at my side and a cup of chocolately goodness in my hands.  How does that sound to you?”

Heavenly.  Shamefully heavenly, but heavenly, nonetheless.

     “I would hate to deny you anything your heart desired.”

     “Then that’s what we’ll do.  Ooh… they’re selling roasted nuts, too.  This keeps getting better and better…”

Though Mycroft was not so overcome with relief that he could miss the signs that screamed his partner would adore spending the next hour or so gliding around the ice before they indulged in chocolate and chestnuts.  An hour or so that was willingly sacrificed to spare _him_ discomfort.  If there was a man whose heart was larger than his lover’s, then they must already be on the list for impending sainthood.

     “Marvelous.  A perfect slice of winter to end our evening.”

     “Absolutely.  And, don’t forget… we’ve got other things on our agenda for when we get home.”

     “Salacious things?”

     “Very.  Have to warm you up after being out in the cold night air don’t I?”

     “I do take chill easily.”

Lestrade lifted Mycroft’s gloved hand and gave it a kiss before walking him carefully off the ice and to an empty bench to get the skates off his feet and cozy treats into his hands.  Have to remember, _have_ to remember, that Mycroft was amazing and wonderful and brilliant and perfect, but was his _own_ man and that didn’t always line up with the sort of man _he_ was.  And, in full honesty, he wouldn’t have it any other way.  Life would be terribly boring otherwise and really, who wanted that…

__________

     “Sir?”

Anthea was using her querying tone.  First the Americans with their typical bombastic nonsense and now an inquisitive PA.  The day was off to a rollicking start…

     “Yes?”

     “Do you intend to melt the window glass with your fiery glare or is there something you need to talk about before your office becomes ventilated in a rather chilly way?”

Evil woman.  Those fairy tales that featured wicked witches were certainly modeled on Anthea’s accursed ancestors.

     “Is it now a crime to allow the eyes a bit of rest when they have suffered hour upon hour of monochromatic documents dancing in their path?”

     “You’ve only been here 45 minutes.”

     “The principle is still sound.”

     “Right.  Now, why don’t you simply make a clean breast of things and we can start on that small restructuring matter a certain European nation has been bothering you about since their rather unfortunate, though entirely predictable, series of elections?”

     “My breast is spotless, I will have you know.”

     “If spotless has become synonymous with large and obvious lies, I wish someone would have told me before I really made a mess of things with someone I actually care about making a mess in front of.  But, since your large and obvious lie is out in the open and you’re already out of sorts this early into the work day, I’m going to suppose something happened this morning at home or last night, also at home, that you’re having trouble chewing properly.  Did Mr. Lestrade find a gray hair?  On you, I mean, not him.  He’s got enough of his own to spare, but I have to admit it flatters him wonderfully.”

Gregory’s hair was stunning.  In sunshine or moonlight, dry or wet… the capstone to the Detective Inspector’s overall presentation of unabashed beauty.

     “Now that you’re smiling, sir, why don’t you tell me what has you bothered?”

EVIL!  It was unequivocally unsporting to use Gregory’s majesty to distract him…

     “I am suffering no particular botheration, so you may quell your unseemly curiosity about my personal business.”

     “I’ve always wondered what your lies taste like.  They must be absolutely delicious because you tell so very many of them.”

     “Your career as a comedienne has a piteously-mournful future, so you might wish to consider another path as you seek alternate employment.”

     “Tell me.  You know you’ll be happier if you do.  Who helped salvage your love life when you told Mr. Lestrade that a trip for new trousers might be in order since he was gaining a few pounds?  Why, I do believe that was me.  Who kept you with your partner in your house and, as importantly, in your bed.”

No, that was not the most stellar example of clear thinking in his mental portfolio.  Gregory’s sorrowful face and the disheartened patting of his highly-appealing stomach was the most soul-draining of sights.  Intimate relations in the wake of that debacle had suffered mightily…

     “Whereas I will credit you with some _small_ suggestions of a helpful nature, the restoration of Gregory and my domestic tranquility was, by far, of my own doing.”

     “Cake.  They taste like cake, don’t they?  The especially large and obvious examples of your pitiful lies.  What a wonderful thing that must be.”

     “Are we going to accomplish _anything_ of note today?”

     “Not until you finish your cake and tell me what happened that has your laser eyes set to full beam.”

Who was the imbecile who made beheadings illegal?  One swift swing of a sword and this office would offer the perfect measure of peace and quiet.  Of course, peace and quiet would not exactly nudge him in directions that might, _might_ , mind you, help to clear the disquiet in his mind…

     “If you absolutely must know…”

     “I must, so get on with it.  Sir.”

     “… I may have disappointed Gregory with a reluctance to engage in an activity that held, for him, substantial appeal.”

     “Oh.  Well, that’s not something to worry about too greatly.  It’s a normal thing for any couple to have differences in likes and dislikes.  Was he angry?”

     “No, nothing of the sort.  I… the guilt is solely of my own creation, but I feel its sting most strongly, in any case.  It was… it was something linked with Gregory’s childhood, a perfect activity to share and…”

     “If it wasn’t something you liked, sir, I can’t see him blaming you for not wanting to participate.”

     “But it was!  That… that is the crux of the situation.”

     “Now, you’ve lost me.  Provide detail and there had better not be a smidgen of cake in there or it won’t go well for you.  And there’ll be no Sir this time so you know how serious I am.”

The evil was pungent and burning…

     “Very well.  Gregory noticed an area being used for ice skating and…”

     “Oh!  I wager I know exactly the spot.  It’s that little park not far from your house that you have a stroll through when you need some fresh air and a chance to remind yourself that the world is still turning even though the dunderheads and arseholes are doing their best to see things go another way.  I saw they were putting up lights and handrails when I delivered those papers to you a week ago.  It’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Adorable was not exactly the word he would use for it, no.

     “May I continue?”

     “What?  Oh, yes.  Sorry.  Do go on.”

     “Thank you.  As I was saying, Gregory saw the area you correctly identified and… it reminded him of times past.  Good times, in point of fact, and I believe he hoped both to relive them and, if it is not too arrogant to assert, create new memories that included us both.”

     “Which sounds like an incredibly welcome thing, in my opinion.”

     “And I will not argue against it.  However…”

A small light went on in Anthea’s head and she suddenly felt that she had a better grasp of the problem.  Which _was_ a problem and not a small one at that.

     “It was full of people doing what people typically do that makes you peevish and insane.”

     “Yes!  I mean… one might say that, though in not precisely those words.  In truth, I greatly enjoy ice skating, however…”

     “Not with throngs of silly people behaving in ways that intrude on what you’re trying to enjoy.”

Which makes you incredibly anxious and has me running the small errands to places where throngs of silly people gather so you don’t have your nerves race into the red zone and make you the most miserable person in London.

     “Just so.  When I was younger… in my youth, we would often take a winter holiday and with Mummy and Father enjoying nearby skiing, shopping or socialization opportunities, Sherlock with his nose in whatever he found for a new experiment… I would be able to take advantage of the frozen lake or pond to be found on the property we had taken for the duration of our time abroad.  It was… the silence was penetrating. Encompassing… I felt as if I were alone in the world and it was _magnificent_.  Meditative, really… to skate with little thought besides calm reflections on pleasant things for which I could rarely spare a moment in my already over-filled days.  To think in… music or color… to replay favorite passages from books… or nothing.  To think of nothing but the sensations of cold and wind and weak sunshine.  The most cherished moments were those when I could sneak away at night and skate under a sky brilliant with stars and feel truly alone and unencumbered in the world.  The only thing that mattered, that _existed_ , was me.”

Anthea held back giving her employer a comforting hug because it would _not_ be appreciated, so gave him the largest one she could in her mind.  Poor Mr. Holmes… not a man who courted the company of anyone until he met the person who fit into his solitude like a piece that had gone missing from a puzzle.  And, she had no doubt, that person had felt a proper dunce when he realized just how uncomfortable Mr. Holmes had been at the thought of spending even five minutes among the winter revelers, at least not without sufficient warning and preparation…

     “Did you… you didn’t talk about this with Mr. Lestrade, did you?”

And multiply his disgrace?  What a ridiculous notion.

     “There would be no purpose to that conversation.”

     “No, there would be a vital purpose.  I suspect Mr. Lestrade would very much like to hear the reason why you weren’t as enthusiastic as he was for what seemed a bit of fun, actually, and you know as well as do I that he is an amazingly understanding man once he actually _has_ something to understand.  Take the time and talk to him, sir.  Perhaps… you’re not a man without means and ways… find a way for both of you to enjoy the experience.  It can’t be that hard.  You’ve taken entire restaurants before to give him a special birthday or closed-an-important case dinner, so I assume you can use your godly powers for other venues, as well.”

Mycroft cut his eyes towards his PA to scan for any evidence of duplicity, teasing or… pity… and found none on her features.

     “That is not an entirely unsound idea.”

     “I have one now and again.”

     “And, now that it has landed, may we see the remainder of the day free from discussion of what is most certainly none of your business?”

Said with both a tone and look that Anthea recognized easily as her Mr. Holmes’s way of saying ‘thank you’ and that there would be something especially flavorful and decadent for their lunch.  Being said Mr. Holmes’s relationship counselor certainly wasn’t an easy job, but it was _wildly_ entertaining and the fringe benefits were more than worth it…

__________

     “You know, love, I do have a fairly good knowledge of my work schedule and I can’t, no matter how hard I try, remember there being a full weekend free for… eternity.  Certainly not _this_ weekend and that would definitely be something I would both remember and be celebrating since Monday.”

Mycroft smiled at his partner who was currently enjoying a glass of respectable whisky with his suspicious confusion.  Though Anthea would surely not be credited with planting any appreciable seeds in his mind, his Gregory would enjoy the resulting fruits, succulent and plentiful as they were.

     “It is not, in the spirit of full disclosure, a free weekend for you.”

     “Oh… and to what conference or meeting or special detachment am I assigned for the next two days?”

     “You are enduring a positively ghastly close-quarters discussion on the perception of government, shall we say… assistance, during police investigations.”

     “That does sound ghastly.”

     “You are suffering most direly.”

     “This isn’t going to be somewhere warm and sunny, is it?  The last time I was called away for a very important bit of business and came back with a tan, I caught hell for a fortnight from my team.”

     “Though you did greatly enjoy Aruba.”

     “It was brilliant!  The next time we go, I want to spend another day snorkeling.  Maybe do some spearfishing and cook my victim on the beach for our dinner.”

     “So feral of you.  I heartily approve.  But you shall not have to weather any suntan-prompted scorn for this assignment, so be of good cheer.”

     “A weekend away with you?  I don’t care what we do, I will be in _very_ good cheer.  Can I have a hint, though?”

     “Hmmm… it is something I have promised but yet to deliver until now.”

     “What?  Mycroft… you’re not putting me on the International Space Station, are you?”

     “Did I make you that promise?”

     “Yes, but you were rather drunk when you did.  That was the night I agreed to move in with you and we went through… a few… bottles of what I had on hand in my flat to celebrate.”

     “Ah, of course.  Nevertheless, I shall make a point of having you fitted for a space suit at my earliest possible opportunity.”

     “No rush.  With my luck, I’d be photographed by the BBC and end up sacked because I was supposed to be in Cornwall or something talking about police uniforms and how we can make them less threatening to the public, instead.”

     “Then I shall postpone your space voyage until you have reached retirement age and a sacking shall not play havoc with either your pension or subsequent enjoyment of your waning years.”

     “That’s likely a good idea.  And… to be honest, I’m can’t think of what you’ve promised me that you haven’t delivered.  Your record for making good on promises is an exceptional one, kind sir, something for which I am forever grateful.”

     “Then consider this another mark in the credit column of my ledger.  In fact… you may make that mark now, if you choose.”

Mycroft used his own glass of whisky to point to the opening in the trees that lined the road and the large house that loomed ahead of them.

     “Let me present to you, Gregory, my childhood home.”

The astounded look on Lestrade’s face gave way to a bright smile that swept away Mycroft’s slight bit of worry that his lover would find the property unsatisfactory.

     “Really?  I’ve been hoping to see that since… ah!  Since you mentioned it as one of your favorite places in the world!  Now, I remember… oh, this is great, Mycroft.  We’re staying here for the weekend?”

     “That we are.  In fact… I would hope that this could be considered our own country hideaway to which we can turn when we require a small respite from the rigors of London.”

And, since he had set a battalion of workmen on the property, it was fully up to date with new furnishings, appliances, and all the modern conveniences he had grown to appreciate, which would make their respite all the more restful.

     “I… I’d love that!  It’s something I’ve always dreamed about, if you want the truth.  A place to go away from the noise and bustle… somewhere to walk and think and clear out the shite that’s cluttering up my head.  This is fantastic, Mycroft.  Absolutely fantastic…”

Setting aside both their glasses, Lestrade leaned in and gave his lover a kiss that said everything he couldn’t quite put words to, but wished he could.  His Mycroft had an incomparable mind, but his heart and soul were just as unbelievable.  Maybe not everyone could see it, but that was fine.  _He_ could and that was why this was the man he loved with _his_ own heart and soul.  A man he hoped to be with until that pesky retirement age and long beyond…

     “I am so glad you are pleased.  Also, here is a rather consequential amount of property attached to the house so long walks are certainly an activity in which we shall engage with some frequency.  And lo… here we are.  The driver will bring the luggage, my dear, so shall I give you the grand tour?”

Lestrade leapt out of the car and stood, hopping foot to foot and shimmying in a way that had Mycroft laughing and looking very forward to the moment when he and his Detective Inspector took to their very large and comfortable bed later in the evening.  However, there were matters to attend to first… matters that, fingers crossed, would certainly energize that ‘later in the evening’ time to a rather spine-tingling degree…

__________

     “Your verdict, Gregory?”

     “I love it!  I mean, it’s huge, but cozy at the same time.  Things feel right for us, too.  Don’t think I didn’t notice all those little touches you probably insisted on because you know I’d want them, like that enormous bathtub that I know isn’t original to the house and the telly nearly the size of a whole wall in that room with the sofa that nearly swallowed me whole.”

     “I may have seen a few features updated to make this undeniably _our_ home away from home, I shall admit.”

     “You did a brilliant job of it, I would say.  It’s… it’s going to be a joy staying here and I’m already looking forward to coming back.”

Mycroft ran a hand along Lestrade’s cheek, the wrapped his arms around his partner and drew him close.

     “I hoped you would feel that way, for I find myself with a longing to be a more frequent visitor to the property than I have been for… well, for years.  I attribute that fully to you, my dear, for it is only now that a sense of _home_ has reentered my life and I could not be happier.”

This kiss lingered for a long while as both men took time to show to their partner the depth of their affection and contentment with the person they had chosen to be at their side until the end of time.

     “I love you, Mycroft.  Every day I fall in love with you all over again and every day it’s deeper and more wonderful than the day before.  I never thought I’d find someone like you, thought it was only in stories and in films that this sort of thing happened, but I’m thrilled to be proven wrong.”

Mycroft kissed his partner again, more to keep from embarrassing himself with the most treacly and overwrought of heartfelt confessions than to savor the taste of Lestrade’s lips, though that ran an extremely close second.  He could never, not with the volume of words in his brain, fully express how greatly he cared for the man in his arms, but he would dedicate each of his days to demonstrating his passion, affection, commitment and respect whenever and however he possibly could. 

     “And I shall do my best, for all my years, to be worthy of that love.  In fact… perhaps I can make a start on that now.”

     “Oh?  What do you have in store for me now, Mr. Mysterious?”

     “You shall see.  First, let us bundle you properly for the cold.”

     “Cold?  It’s toasty warm in… oh.  We’re going outdoors for our little adventure, are we?”

     “No clues.  Not a single clue from me shall you receive.  But do be prepared for a rather lengthy exposure to the chill.”

     “A _grand_ adventure, then.  This keeps getting better and better.  Hat, scarf, mittens and lots of layers… are you going to help?”

     “If I do, will you pledge to keep the focus of the activity on dressing and not licentiousness.”

     “Do I have to?”

     “If you want your adventure, you do.  I am most afraid that if my attention turns towards the delights of your naked flesh, we shall not see the world beyond these walls until the driver returns to take us back to London.”

     “You’re probably right.  Then, I promise, hand on heart, to be a good boy and save the naked flesh matters for later.”

     “Excellent.  Your cooperation is most appreciated.”

     “But… there _will_ be later, right?”

     “Scads.”

     “Then all is right in the world.”

__________

     “Really?”

     “I would not jest about such things, Gregory.”

     “But… can you even see?”

     “My night vision is exemplary.”

     “Alright, but if end up on my face because I stumbled over a tree root, I’m going to bawl like a baby and you’ll have to do all the wiping up of the blood.”

     “I will bear the responsibility proudly.  Now, close your eyes and take my hand.  I guarantee your health and safety for the exceptionally short walk across this root-free expanse of ground.”

     “Alright then… eyes closed.”

     “No peeking.”

     “Only if I feel my boot laces being tied together.”

     “And, if I was aged ten, you might have a worry about such a thing.  Since I, however, am not, kindly follow along with confidence in the sanctity of your person and footwear.”

Mycroft took Lestrade by the hand and continued their walk along the narrow path which led to a small field that… well, that failed in any appreciable way to resemble a small field at the present time.

     “And we are arrived.  It is now permissible for you to open your eyes.”

Lestrade made an elaborate show of cracking his eyelids, then felt both eyes snap open when he saw the scene spread out in front of him.

     “What… you…”

     “I take it my surprise was surprising.”

     “It’s an ice rink!”

     “For the time being.  There are several ponds on the property and we do abut a notable lake, but none are in a condition to support skating, so I had this one established as a substitute.  And I do want to skate with you, Gregory.  I know it did not seem the case for our last attempt, but…”

     “It wasn’t a good situation for you, love.  I realized that after-the-fact and I _was_ sorry for it.  I got a tad carried away and didn’t spare a thought for you and how you would feel, which wasn’t at all right of me.”

     “Something I perfectly understand for, as you well know, I have done the same on more than one occasion.  I hope, though, that this might be a scenario that is agreeable to both of us.  It is something that I _very_ much want to share with you, my love.  Both the experience and the memories I have of it.”

     “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.  Skating with you, talking or not talking.  A night like this… makes you want to just enjoy the silence, doesn’t it?”

Mycroft smiled the smile Lestrade loved best – the one that exposed his lover down to his very core – and the DI used the opportunity to link their arms and start strolling them towards the small bench that sat on the edge of the most romantic skating rink in the history of civilization.  With…

     “Do I smell chocolate?  And roasted chestnuts?”

     “But, of course.  When one indulges, one should do it lavishly, don’t you agree?”

     “Have I told you today that I love you, Mycroft Holmes?”

     “Perhaps.  But my memory is a sadly diminished thing.”

     “You lying bastard.”

     “I remember that I love you.  With all my heart.  Is that sufficient?”

     “That’ll do for now.  I’ll take steps to jog a few other things loose from that dismal memory once we get on the ice.  And, later, into bed.”

With Mycroft’s smile still on his lips, Lestrade added his own to the picture and readied himself for an evening he would never forget, no matter how old and feeble his own memory became.  Along with all the other indescribable evenings that he’d spend with the man gleefully beginning to put on his skates.  Someday he’d fathom out what he’d done to merit this much happiness in his life, but, today, he was content to simply enjoy the gift the universe had given him.  A gift that, now, was out on their private ice, gliding like a swan across still water and glowing with a pleasure that came from a place very deep inside.  Graceful, beautiful… and his.  No, ‘gift’ was too lean a term for what he’d been given.  He’d find a thesaurus at some point and find something better.  Not something to worry about at this point, however.  Now, there were far more important things to do and someone _very_ important to do them with…


End file.
